


and the ashes fall

by cherry_throat



Category: LOONA (Korea Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, Coming of Age, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24746713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry_throat/pseuds/cherry_throat
Summary: The rise and fall of two boys."Bad luck to talk on these ridesMind on the roadYour dilated eyes watch the clouds float"
Relationships: Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Min Yoongi | Suga
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	and the ashes fall

  
_Now._

They say, "you don't know what you have until it's gone."

And, oh, today he can feel that yearning--that loss bubbling in his veins, settling in his bones. Every time Hoseok moves, his body resonants with what's he's missing. He feels it weigh down his sneakers as he drags them across the wooden dance floor. He can see it reflected back at him in the excessively large mirror, the way it's sunken into his eyes.

And of course, our minds are destructive beings.

Because in the remembrance of something lost, what better way to mourn it than to recreate it once more?

So, now, Hoseok, in all his limitations, can almost make out a tussle of bright green hair right in front of him. He can still remember the way it fanned out against pale, bright skin.

But he doesn't want to simply remember. He wants to feel the way he once carded his hands through the shag of the boy's hair again.

And then he can almost see them, the pretty dark eyes, deeper than wishing wells, and everything they inhabit. It's pure selfishness when he says that that's all he wants: to meet those eyes again, the same eyes that once returned the same fondness and affection.

However, Hoseok's re-creation will never be the real boy, nor will it manifest him. So Hoseok is left alone in the middle of the eerily quiet, hollow dance room, with nothing but his own to arms to stare at. The same arms that were once littered by the boy's doodles. The drawings were absolutely below average. Like, they were kinda shit. But Hoseok loved them; loved them so much, that Hoseok had forced Yoongi to start using sharpie to make them last longer.

But even if Hoseok had attempted to trace the lines of the doodles of his arms, anything in an attempt to still the memory of the boy after his departure, it had all eventually washed away, akin to the way boy had faded from Hoseok's life.

All but two small markings had been erased from his skin.

Half a week after Hoseok had painfully realized that the boy would not be returning, arms still littered in half fading artwork, Hoseok had imprinted the small thin lines only his right wrist--a sun and a moon. Hoseok impulsively had the doodles on his wrist set in his skin forever.

He thought that he would later regret the tattoos. That maybe one day Hosoek would stop missing him.

But the only feeling he has now when he looks down at his arm is sorrow.

They say, "you don't know what you have until it's gone." But Hoseok is a prime example that that's just some made-up shit.

You've always known what you had, you just never expected that one day it would no longer be yours.

And Hoseok, being the masochist he is, reminds himself every time he looks down at his own skin.

  
The word _nostalgia_ is the combination of the Greek nostos, meaning home with _algos_ , meaning pain.

Days like this, Yoongi doesn't know what to do with himself.

He runs his fingertips along the halls that he wanders without aim.

Under his breath, he hums to himself--the same songs that pair painfully with drifted memories--the same songs Hoseok used to belt from the passenger seat--the melodies that would pulse through the speakers of his van; blue, paint-stripped paint and broken sun visors.

Hoseok's stupid face has to pop right into his mind, and that shitty, sky blue van and all it endured worms it's way back into Yoongi's brain, and it's like someone's lit a match deep inside of him. The smoke curls behind his eyeballs like little moths--wings of white flame clouding his mind.

From the late-night stops for instant noodles to his first kiss. It all comes straight back to him.

And it just burns.

Yoongi sits on the wood floor of his apartment and takes out his lighter.

_spark, flame._  
_and then it's gone as quickly as it came._

He cannot say if it would be to his benefit to leave it all behind. His cinnamon-flavored youth, and the only time he was truly happy.

But the nostalgia digs into his chest.  
It's a flash of fire and flame and searing pain.  
Something-- no--someone that once brought him such security, now suffocates him-- like smoke.

_Then._

The summer turning 18, the new surge into adulthood has Hoseok head over heels.

Growing into a strong, able man ("so strong you can't seem to grow a mustache," Dawon had teased).

However, he failed his road test about two times now, and a third one meant he would have to vie for his permit again, and he does not have the energy to sit with a bunch of juniors again for that shit. It not exactly that he is a bad driver... Okay, maybe he is. But he just gets nervous!

Either way, what's the harm of _looking_ at a few cars? He can dream, right?

He gets on his rusty old blue bicycle and rides to the nearest dealership, the warm summer air breezing gently against his skin.

_Min Wheels_ on the corner sports some basic selections, but Mr. Min also prides his ownership of a few hot sports cars. Shiny cars with glossy black tires line the gravel lot. He remembers clinging to his mother's leg when he was just a kid as they changed her oil. Some of the cars are older makes, and some newer, Hoseok imagines himself taking one of them for a spin.

A man emerges from a garage at the back of the shop and approaches Hoseok.

"Young man," the man greets, "shopping for your first car, no?"

The man is older, maybe in his late 60's. His face is spotted and a bit tattered with motor oil smeared on his forehead, but his eyes are kind. The type that crinkle at the corner when he smiles. And he's always smiling, big and toothy and wide so that his gums show.

Hoseok is too prideful to say _"No, Sir, I am the worst driver in the galaxy but I just wanted to fantasize about driving one of your Mustangs,"_

So instead, he simply nods and grins big.

They stroll around the lot, the older man commenting on every other car. He is extremely amiable, making Hoseok feel guilty that he isn't leaving with a car.

"Excuse me, I'll be back," the older man comments with a smile, looking over to watch a van pull into the lot, "Feel free to look around."

Hoseok is left to gaze at an old cream-colored Impala. He runs a finger over the hood and imagines what it would like to sit behind the wheel.

But his attention was driven (no pun intended) from the car. Instead, he watched a light blue van park in the lot and up to the garage.

Hoseok watches from afar as the old man approaches the van. A boy--a short boy opens the door, and the first thing Hoseok notices is his pale green hair, messy. The boy practically jumps down from the driver's seat to the old man who holds his arms wide open. The man hugs the boy and although the boy doesn't seem to be hugging back very much, his face has a pleasant sense of welcoming on it.

Suddenly the boy looks up, sensing his gaze, and Hoseok's stomach jumps, and he averts his eyes down to the Impala.

The boy eventually makes his way into the shop and the older man slowly hikes back over to Hoseok. Hoseok politely asks for a business card and tells the man he would return.

_Soon...probably._

"Yeah, but you also cried at graduation..." Namjoon comments, barking over the blaring music.

"That's normal. Everyone does that," Seokjin points out, defensively. He pours himself another drink.

"And at McDonald's last week when their ice cream machine was broken..."

"That's because it's always broken, and I was in dire need of soft serve."

"And that one time when we saw that dog in a sweater at the park," Yoongi adds, "You said the thought of animals in clothes was overwhelming."

"Okay, now everyone's ganging up on me, and I really don't appreciate it."

"What, are you gonna cry?" Yoongi says, and Namjoon yelps out a laugh.

Seokjin narrows his eyes and straightens his jacket.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he says and rolls his eyes, "Watch my drink, yeah?"

Yoongi nods, and he walks away from the kitchen counter.

"Gonna go make sure he's not puking," Namjoon says with a frown.

"Excellent idea," Yoongi says, shaking his head.

Yoongi peers around the room. He doesn't recognize some of the faces. They're chatting and dancing, and one guy has a guitar, desperately asking people if they want to hear him play.

"Hey! You're Taehyung's cousin, right?"

Yoongi turns to a boy. He's tan. Tanner than Yoongi. But that's always a given. He's wearing a shirt with a metal band on it, logo all twisted and distorted.

"And to who do I owe the pleasure?"

The boy extends a hand.

"Jung Hoseok. The one and only. Charmed," the boy says, smiling. Yoongi notes his unique smile. It's shaped like a heart. Cool.

His thumb is painted in black nail polish. Yoongi reaches out to shake his hand.

"Yoongi. Min. Enchanted."

With that, Hoseok covers his mouth and laughs.

"Where's Taehyung?"

"Outside. Wrestling..." Yoongi says with a grimace, "You're free to join him."

"Tempting offer," Hoseok says, "Not in this lifetime."

"Wise choice," Yoongi declares, "Wanna drink?"

"Course." says Hoseok cheerily, "Yo, is this Radiohead?"

"Course." Yoongi repeats. He grabs a plastic cup and pours the boy a drink.

"Love them. Thom Yorke is a genius," Hoseok says, eyes sparkling, "Whoever made this playlist should be paid good money."

"That would be me. I'll take my cash now,"

Hoseok digs around in his pockets. He pulls out a bit of change and hands it over to Yoongi. Yoongi laughs and takes it.

"I take weekly payments too, that's fine."

Hoseok chuckles and takes a sip of his drink. As he's drinking, his eyes go wide, and he almost spits it out. Maybe he hates the taste. But instead, he puts out a finger and downs the rest. Once he finishes, he swallows once more.

"Wait! You're the van guy--person--hyung. Can I call you that?"

Yoongi quirks up an eyebrow.

"Hyung it is then," Yoongi says.

"Sick! And, yeah! I saw you at _Min Wheels_. How could I forget that blue hair!" He blurts, "Which very much suits you, by the way. I wish I could dye my hair."

Now Yoongi remembers. This boy was looking at the cars.

"Oh yeah, I remember. That's my grandfather's shop. I sometimes work in the garage."

Hoseok looks like a jack in the box about to shoot up.

"Oh. My God. So you're like good with cars?"

Yoongi shrugs, "I guess a little?"

Hoseok takes a step closer.

"I have been looking for you everywhere," he says, eyes gleaming, "You could be the one."

Now Yoongi's confused.

"Excuse me?"

"You're good with cars. I'm terrible with cars," Hoseok says pointedly.

"Okay, I'm gonna need a little more explanation."

"Teach me to drive!" He shouts, hands pressed together in a pleading motion, "I have birthday money. I'll pay you!"

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head.

"I'm not taking your money--" Yoongi looks down at the change on the counter, "--In large quantities. Besides, what makes you think I'd be a good teacher?"

"I can just tell."

Yoongi sighs. Damn this kid. He's got such a big personality. Yoongi feels like he's looking straight into the sun. But it doesn't burn for some reason...

Yoongi hums. "Maybe."

Later that night, Yoongi is cleaning up after everyone left. Who leaves a perfectly full bag of sour patch kids. Whatever. More for him. He stands up straight when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out and unlocks it.

 _ unknown  
_ _Hyung! It's Hoseok. When are you gonna show me your mad skills?_

Yoongi shakes his head. He digs around in his pockets again and pulls out the spare change. He chuckles.

 _ me  
_ _anytime. any place._


End file.
